


Backfire

by naboru



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Dark, M/M, Non Consensual, PWP, Plug and Play, Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-05
Updated: 2012-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 23:05:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/313161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Vortex bites off more than he can chew...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backfire

**Title:** Backfire  
 **Continuity:** G1  
 **Warnings:** crack, comedy, smut (plug’n’play), non-con, PWP, dark  
 **Pairing:** Vortex/Blast Off (in that order)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
 **Summary:** Sometimes Vortex bites off more than he can chew…  
 **Beta:** [ultharkitty](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty), so many thanks. *glomps* :D

 **Note:** Written for the [springkink](http://springkink.livejournal.com/) prompt: Fic/26 February - Transformers, Any pairing: plugging in somewhere not meant for sex - voiding the warranty

 

**Backfire**

“Hey, Thrusters!” Vortex kicked the control console in front of him, but nothing happened.

“Hey, c’mon, Blast Off!” He did it again and, furthermore, hit the metal with his palm.

“Helloo~ hooo! Thrusters, you fraggin’ lazy slagger!” When he was about to clench his hand to a fist and focus the pressure on the console, buttons lit up, a screen flickered, and Vortex heard the quiet, subtle click of Blast Off’s onboard cameras activating.

The cameras zoomed in on him, and more lamps flickered to life. “Wha… what is it?!” The shuttle’s voice through the speakers sounded weirdly confused.

Funny.

Vortex grinned behind his battle mask, then answered, whining. “I’m bored.”

There was a pause which lasted half a klick, before Blast Off spat. “You’re _bored_?!”

Apparently, the shuttle had found his composure again.

Vortex nodded, and waved at one of the cameras pointing at him. “Yep.”

“You stupid slagger! You woke me up because you’re _bored_?!”

“Hehehe… yeah.”

A growl echoed from Blast Off’s engine through the cargo hold and reached the cockpit. “You…” The floor beneath Vortex’ feet shook noticeably. “You imbecile lunatic! You stupid….”

Another rumble, and Vortex’ grin broadened at Blast Off’s loss for words. This, however, didn’t last long.

“Do you have any idea how long I haven’t recharged? Do you have any idea?! Unlike you, I have to work here.”

Uh-oh, apparently Blast Off really wasn’t amused. But this didn’t stop Vortex from being bored, and so he asked, cheerfully and completely ignoring the other’s angry words. “So, what do we do now?”

The onboard speakers crackled. “ _I_ am trying to find a single reason why I should not open my door and throw you into space”.” And with that, the screen shut down, the blinking buttons went off and the cameras deactivated.

Vortex sighed.

He poked the console with his foot. “C’mon… Let’s do something. It can’t be that exhausting flying through _nothing_.”

Looking through one of Blast Off’s front windows, Vortex tilted his head. There really was nothing, except a few bright spots which were stars far, far away. Too far to be interesting.

“Thrusters…”

Blast Off didn’t answer.

That had to be expected. The shuttle had probably gone into “ignoring mode” and wouldn’t talk to Vortex until they reached their destination. And it wasn’t like Vortex had any company, apart from the vessel which surrounded and ignored him.

Another sigh.

He leant forward, an elbow on Blast Off’s console, helm resting on his hand. Vortex glanced up at one of the cameras, and pushed a random button.

Nothing happened.

Vortex pressed another one, but again there was no reaction.

He grinned.

Sliding his palm over the smooth surface between the keys, his fingers reached a third one, encircling it and only then pushed it down. He repeated his action twice before the whirring sound of cameras zooming echoed through the quiet cockpit.

“Stop that!”

Well, that was a reaction. Vortex’ grin broadened. His own interior instruments were quite sensitive and ticklish, so it was reasonable that Blast Off’s were too. Especially when the shuttle always emphasised not touching anything.

Vortex’ tone was amused when he asked, “Feel good?”

“No! It triggers nonsense commands which I need to overwrite every time!”

“I told you I’m bored,” Vortex said casually and pressed another button, paying far more attention to the metal surrounding it than necessary.

Blast Off’s engine rumbled.

Vortex laughed.

His other hand joined the fun, pressed buttons and stroked the metal between.

When there was no more reaction, though, Vortex got bored again. He began exploring more parts or the console, and even retracted his battle mask, let his glossa flick over a few keys and seams.

“I said stop that!” Blast Off snapped crossly.

“Hehe. And I said I’m bored,” Vortex said amused, and licked over an interesting looking seam.

“You are an idiot!” Blast Off’s voice was flustered, which only made things more interesting.

Vortex smirked. Tracing over the rim again, he took a closer look; it seemed to be some kind of hatch. “What is that?”

“Nothing!” The answer came promptly, too quick, and Vortex giggled.

“Vortex…!” Blast Off’s tone was now threatening, but Vortex didn’t care. The panel was more interesting, and he tried to open it. He stroked the seams again, licking over it once, before he pushed the metal down briefly.

The hatch opened with a faint click.

“Oh, that was easy.”

“What are you doing?” the shuttle asked suspiciously, causing Vortex to shrug.

“Exploring,” was the casual answer, fingers touching the revealed hardware curiously. It was a port, and a plug, and looked almost like interfacing hardware.

“Does every shuttle have this?” Vortex traced over the edge of the port.

“What do you mean?”

Vortex didn’t answer, but opened his interface panel and took his connector.

The metal around him shuddered.

“Don’t you dare!” Blast Off growled, but the ‘copter merely grinned as he continued tracing the rim of the port.

“What? Would it void your guarantee?”

“This is a data exchange port! I swear, if you…”

“What? You’ll throw me into space?” Vortex interrupted and plugged his connector in. “I know you wouldn’t,” he laughed and sent a strong pulse through the connection. It earned himself another growl.

Then, he took the other’s connector. Out of its housing, it looked a little different than the usual interfacing hardware and the cable was thicker, but he reasoned it should fit anyway. With a grin, Vortex squeezed the plug. “Do you feel that?”

“Vortex! Put that back!”

His rotors quivered from excitement and the oddity of the newfound equipment. He had absolutely no intention of stopping now.

“Hehe…”

Blast Off’s connector hovered over his port for a moment.

“ _Vortex!_ ”

He plugged it in and gasped.

It started with a sudden and intense headache. Gestalt programming soaring high, processor clocking fast as it tried to make sense of the connection. Then Vortex’ equilibrium glitched and he sank to his knees before any sense of direction vanished completely.

The stream of data was immense, and for the first few instants Vortex was overwhelmed and unable to think. He clutched at something for purchase, which turned out to be the edge of Blast Off’s console.

After a few astroseconds, the combiner program’s influence ebbed slightly but not as much as it usually did, and it was nothing like Vortex had expected.

The things he got through the connection were pure information.

He saw himself crouching on the floor from three different angles; from each of Blast Off’s cockpit cameras. He saw his cargo hold - Blast Off’s cargo hold - from six points of view, and he saw what was outside. He _knew_ what was in front of Blast Off, and what was behind him. But not only that. He saw it like he did with his own optical sensors, a black void of nothing, and he saw the same image filtered through various scanners. Showing him the same area of space with its extend of radiation of all kinds Vortex didn’t even know existed.

It was colourful, blurred and frightening, because except him and Blast Off, there wasn’t a single living being for billions of miles. There wasn’t even a planet nearby, there was _nothing_ except for the searing cold on his plating, and the force of the vacuum threatening to rip him apart.

And it didn’t feel good.

It was sensation, but it wasn’t pleasant. And even though the amount of data made Vortex’ core temperature rise, he could only feel the coldness and emptiness which resembled the Detention Centre altogether too much.

His rotors went idle as there was an intense sting inside them which seemed to make moving them impossible.

Vortex panicked.

His grip tightened, and he forced himself to stand up again with moderate success.

_Vortex!_

Blast Off’s angry voice echoed in his head, and he couldn’t say if it came from the speakers. There were more words, but they lost their meaning in the intensity of data. It was hard to tell what he was doing when he couldn’t discern his own input from Blast Off’s - and they hadn’t even accessed each other’s sensor nets.

Then Vortex finally stood again, and overloaded.

He screamed.

It took him completely by surprise, joints tensing, energy field flaring. Visor blazing, Vortex leant against the console so as not to sink down again. And where usually was the intense heat of surging sensations, there was only cold which overlay everything.

His overload fired back into Blast Off, and the shuttle’s energy field extended for the first time. It was an impact from every direction, pressing onto Vortex and rushing over and through him with brutal strength. He had never experienced it like this before, but he should have expected it since Blast Off was in alt-mode.

The field flared anew, pounding on Vortex’ plating and through it, and he realised that he was trembling. And even despite this knowledge, he began to relax as it began to feel slightly better.

The pain on sore circuits was comforting and drowned out the cold and the emptiness - not completely, but enough to shift his attention away from the disconcerting resemblance to the Detention Centre.

Vortex heard a growl, resonating from the floor and through the interface.

He moaned and shuddered even more. His rotors, though, were utterly still, as though frozen. Trying to fight back the data he could barely process and which caused an unwelcome anxiety, Vortex wanted to concentrate on the pleasant sensations, and failed.

The intensity of the stream increased even more, along with the slow, but steady and strong pulses from Blast Off’s energy field. Still actively attempting to synchronise their systems, the gestalt program made every effort futile, and images of himself and the void outside flooded Vortex’ CPU.

He should disconnect them, Vortex thought, and approval echoed from Blast Off.

And he did. Unplugging Blast Off’s connector from his port with a trembling hand, he slumped on the console, not paying attention to any buttons he might have pushed.

Though even with the data stream cut off, there were enough remnants of fragmented information to make his CPU spin, straining his sensor net.

And Blast Off’s energy field still throbbed powerfully, inducing such pain on his already-stressed nodes that Vortex couldn’t hold off a second overload. This time, however, there was the pouring heat running back and forth in his circuitry which swept away the unwelcome cold and the void.

Vortex gasped, his vision blurred and he shook uncontrollably, still lying on the control console. His own connector was still in Blast Off’s port, and so everything was transmitted into the shuttle.

Blast Off’s alt-mode vibrated, but Vortex knew he didn’t overload. Before he could do anything about it, however, Blast Off’s onboard speakers activated and he spat, voice crackling with static.

“Disconnect us!”

Vortex needed a moment until his thoughts were coherent enough to make sense of the demand. And he wanted to disagree, because Blast Off hadn’t overloaded yet and Vortex could make him. But that sentiment, transmitted as it was through the interface, prompted another growl.

“ _Disconnect us!_ ” the shuttle’s irritated voice repeated, and reluctantly, Vortex did.

As soon as Vortex disconnected his plug, the cockpit lights went out, the screen flickered and became dark and only a few buttons on the console still blinked.

 _Frag_ , Vortex thought tiredly as he slid down and leant with his back against the console. His rotors quivered as post overload tingles prickled on his stressed sensors, and it finally felt good.

He looked up through the darkness into one of Blast Off’s cameras, but it was deactivated.

He should have made the shuttle overload too, he mused. He shut down his optics so as not to see the darkness of the room, only to find out that his CPU was stilly trying to process data and his inner optics showed him more of the void of space outside. How could Blast Off stand this nothingness?

He activated his optical sensors anew; they were the only light source in the cockpit.

The back of Vortex’ helm dropped against the edge of control desk as he focused on the slight fluctuations of Blast Off’s energy field. It was much less intense now, but still evident, and the only sign that it was a sentient shuttle he was in.

Vortex sighed.

Even if his sensor net ached, it wasn’t enough of a distraction. This was worse than the boredom from before.

With a voice not as confident and amused as he hoped, Vortex asked, “Hey, you’re ignoring me?”

The lack of an answer meant _yes_.


End file.
